


Drain Me Like A Sieve

by KiaraAlexisKlay



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Don't read if this is triggering, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief, Loss of children, emotional breakdown, mentions of past infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-29 02:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30149505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiaraAlexisKlay/pseuds/KiaraAlexisKlay
Summary: “I can’t hate you,” the broken woman began to cry her confession.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson, Hayley Marshall/Klaus Mikaelson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Drain Me Like A Sieve

**Author's Note:**

> This deals with the loss of children … please do not read if that is triggering or too intense. My cousin lost her child before the end of her first trimester earlier last year and this is based off of conversations with her.

Drain Me Like Like A Sieve

Baby cries, sharp and shrill and piercing through all and sundry.

Cries is too tame a word.

Wailing, weeping, bawling, and blubbering.

The sound of Satan’s spawn itself is what it was.

Frazzled, exhausted, and almost manic. Caroline rushes to where the baby lay screaming and felt like screaming herself.

So she did.

She didn’t know who was more shocked – her or the baby. There was only a brief, blessed second of silence, and then all hell broke loose.

“Why can’t you stop crying?! I never wanted you! You and your mother and your …your _father_ RUINED my life! I want to hate you! Why?! Why can’t I hate you?”

Caroline sobbed, voice cracking, sobs hiccupping each sentence she had screamed having been matched by the hurt and hysterical infant squalling in her little car seat – a fact Caroline idly recalled needed to be corrected as babies shouldn’t be left exclusively in car seats or they’d suffocate. Or so she had heard.

“Why can’t I hate you?” Caroline wept the last word on a whimpering hiccup, picking the infant out of the car seat and clutching her to her breast in an unconscious sway even as she collapsed to her knees on the dingy carpet.

“Why?” she whispered.

Broken and exhausted, Caroline felt the waves of hate and rage just … fizzle. Like water vapor having been boiled and dissipated.

The baby – her name was Hope, get a grip Caroline – unsquinted her eyes enough to seem to look into Caroline’s soul, and Caroline was suddenly reminded of the answer to the question, why.

Klaus’ gray-blue eyes stared back at her on a newborn face.

Her husband’s eyes.

But there was a slightly deeper tint, a hint of dark brown that mixed with the blue might become a hazel one day.

Her husband’s baby mama’s eyes.

“Oh, God,” Caroline warbled wetly, not paying any heed of the infant’s cries beginning to taper off.

“I can’t hate you,” the broken woman began to cry her confession. Deep, wracking tears and sobs that wrenched her lung and bruised her ribs and back.

“I can’t hate you, Hope. Not when the person I hate the most, is myself.”

Cradling the child of the man she loved - a child not birthed by her, sent another wave of agony but it was distant now, as if she were disconnected from it.

Those eyes should have belonged to her baby. The brother or sister to this very child, in fact. But instead of a potential hazel, it would have been the darker blue of Caroline's own mixing with the gray blue of Klaus.

In fact, this baby - Hope - would never even exist if Caroline's body had just held out, went the distance. Instead, there was a semi-fresh grave with a too small coffin smaller than a shoebox containing the tiny remains Caroline herself had begged and threatened and pleaded with the hospital to keep instead of being disposed of like so much garbage.

Or worse - to be picked apart in the name of science.

Caroline shuddered and then paused, her heart skipping as her ears registered a tiny gurgling noise and looked down at the baby at her breast.

Tiny, gummy little jaws and plump little lips smacked sloppily as the little one attempted to suckle at the skin beginning to redden beneath her onslaught.

"Oh, baby," Caroline fought back the tears, sniffling against the congestion she was beginning to feel, and gave the little one in her arms a tremulous smile.

"Let's get you taken care of and fed, huh? I think we both need it. If you're anything like your father," and Caroline's breath hitched anew, the pain of the knowledge of her husband's infidelity and her own role in the affair, "If you're anything like him, then you're going to be a real beast to deal with if you don't get what you want."

A hungry growl answered her and despite herself, Caroline found a laugh.

It was pathetic really.

More a weakened wheeze than a laugh, really, but it was the closest she had got to one since that fateful hospital night.

"Okay, fine! We're going to be just fine. You and me, kiddo, until the blood-thirsty monsters you will call aunts and uncles let me have contact with your father. And even then...well," heaving a sigh, "Let's hope for the best."

And so, Caroline stood up and began to rise.

She could do this.

She had hope.

**Author's Note:**

> So this just happened ….. 0_0
> 
> Losing a child is never easy. My cousin, one of our aunts, some of my best friends, have all had that terrible experience with losing a child.
> 
> It takes a toll.
> 
> Let's not forget that everyone feels the pain of that loss. Ladies, let's not forget that our partners can and usually do feel the loss of a child just as keenly even if they are not the one carrying the child. 
> 
> The mental scars are just as present as the physical and emotional ones that we the women carry.
> 
> It's important to not lash out in our grief. And while understandable, this is not an uncommon scenario that I have written where a man has sought comfort in the arms of another after a prolonged season of grief and anger.
> 
> Your partner is there for your - and you need to be there for them. You are all each other has, please remember. 
> 
> Thank you.


End file.
